


The Beginning

by notbloodylikely



Category: British Royal Family, British Royalty RPF, The Crown (TV)
Genre: F/M, I continue to torture myself with this ship, Misunderstood princess, More material for The Crown season 4, Tim being his sweet chivalrous self
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbloodylikely/pseuds/notbloodylikely
Summary: Timothy Laurence leaps to defend Princess Anne following an outburst from the Queen’s Press Secretary, though he doesn’t quite understand why yet. Two-part fic set in September 1986, a month before QEII’s visit to Hong Kong.Fun fact: Michael Shea resigned in 1987 after he was identified as a “palace mole” that had given the go-ahead for a newspaper to publish an article about the Queen’s political opinion of Margaret Thatcher. William Heseltine did not like him. A very slight inspiration for this!
Relationships: Anne | Princess Royal (1950 - Present)/Timothy Laurence (1955 - Present)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Timothy Laurence was sitting amongst a number of the Queen’s household staff in a meeting held to discuss Her Majesty’s upcoming tour of Hong Kong. It had been a busy morning with lots to get through. They had just resumed after a break to discuss the formalities and practicalities of the first day’s programme when the Royal Press Secretary burst into the room and slammed the door behind him, causing the room to fall to an abrupt silence. Yanking a chair back from the table, he collapsed into it, red-faced and clearly fuming as he snarled something under his breath and grabbed the papers in front of him. 

“What on Earth is the matter?” Asked William Heseltine, the Queen’s Private Secretary.

Michael Shea just shook his head, trying to hold his temper in front of the most senior advisor to the Sovereign. When he was asked again, he couldn’t hold his tongue. 

“That _fucking bitch _.” He spat the words out, rustling the pages in his hands out of sheer anger. Everyone gave a look that said they knew exactly who he was talking about.__

__“Oh dear.” William sighed. “What’s happened?”_ _

__“She speaks to people like fucking dirt. I asked her a question - one _simple _question - and she sits there screaming abuse at me, and then tells me to, and I quote, ‘fuck off and do my job’?! I mean it, one of these days, I-”_ _ __

__

__

__“Yes yes, alright Michael, compose yourself.” Never one for drama, the Queen’s private secretary was eager to press on, but some of those present, who were more susceptible to gossipmongering than others, began to chime in as Michael continued his rant._ _

__“..I'll say one thing about Mark Phillips: he’s a bloody Saint for putting up with her for this long. Poor chap, it’s no wonder he can’t stand to be around her any longer. He’s got the right idea now-” This got some chuckles, by which point Tim had had enough._ _

__“Don’t you think that’s why she’s so upset?”_ _

__Silence befell in the room once again as everyone turned to look at the young, stone-faced equerry. Michael Shea was looking at him as though he was speaking a foreign language._ _

__“I beg your pardon?”_ _

__“The stories in the newspapers. I presume that’s why you went to speak to her?”_ _

__Indeed it had been. The marriage of Princess Anne and Captain Mark Phillips was once again splashed across the British tabloids, much to the dismay of the Palace Press Office. The couple were now spending more time apart than ever, and while Mark was flying around the world attending conferences, designing equestrian courses and making a name for himself independent from that of the Royal family, there had been a steady circulation of rumours that he wasn’t exactly alone on these numerous business trips._ _

__“Yes, that’s right. What’s your point, Commander?”_ _

__“Well, given the circumstances, I can’t imagine she’d want to face further questioning about her marriage when-” Shea didn’t let him finish._ _

__“And how am I supposed to counter these stories if she won’t even speak to me? Hmm?” His eyes narrowed as he glared at him. “And as a matter of fact, why are you leaping to her defence? Oh, she’s upset, is she? The poor helpless little princess? _Helpless my foot _. You just haven’t been here long enough yet to know that she’s an absolute cu-”___ _

____“Now really Michael, that’s quite enough!” William Heseltine’s voice filled the room, causing several people to jump. “Can we all please return to the task at hand?”_ _ _ _

____Everyone looked down, like schoolchildren having just received a telling off from the headmaster, before taking up their notes and picking up where they had left off._ _ _ _

____Tim felt Michael Shea’s eyes shooting daggers at him several times throughout the remainder of the meeting, but he never looked back at him. Making his way back to his office now, he still couldn’t believe the way that man had spoken about the Princess. In the six months that he had been at the Palace, since being introduced by the Queen herself in her office, he had never had a negative encounter with Princess Anne. She was always pleasant and talkative. There was no doubt that she was a formidable lady and she could be intimidating at times, but never unfriendly or rude._ _ _ _

____Their encounter on HMS Britannia now crossing his mind, Tim only just realised he was passing her suite. With both of them being on the same floor, he passed it several times a day, often meeting her coming in and out and exchanging greetings and polite small talk. Having stopped in his tracks, he noticed the door was slightly open, and he would have kept walking, had it not been for the raised voice he heard coming from inside. Curious, he walked over and gently pushed it open._ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Anne opens up to Timothy Laurence about her marriage problems for the first time.

Standing alone in the living room area of the Princess’s suite of rooms, Tim kept quiet and listened. The door to the adjoining room, where her office was, was also open. Upon taking a step towards it, he froze when he heard her voice.

“What do you expect me to tell them?! That I haven’t heard from you either?” She was shouting, her voice shaky with anger and frustration. When a pause followed, his suspicions were confirmed: she was on the phone to her husband.

“...So where were you? ....A meeting? At 11 o’ clock at night? ...How _would_ I know?! You don’t answer the fucking phone Mark, how would I know what you’re- ..And what, all of these stories are appearing out of thin air, are they? You’ve never met any of these women?...”

Christ, what was he doing?! Standing outside the door, listening to her private conversation?! He could be fired for this. He knew he should walk right back out the door and head for his own office, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Hearing her so distressed truly made him feel a wave of sadness, and his initial thought was that he wanted to comfort her.

His train of thought was interrupted by more shouting, littered with obscenities that he hadn’t heard since his last posting at sea, when everything suddenly went quiet. Before he even had time to think, he was startled by a loud crash, and his body’s instinctive response was to push the door in and rush inside.

“Your Royal Highness, is- is everything, alright?”

His eyes fell first upon the telephone, which now lay on the ground amongst a sea of scattered papers. It was joined by a smashed glass of something, which had spilled over most of said papers, and two framed photographs, also smashed. When he looked up, she was staring at him, and he had never seen such a look of utter fury.

For a moment, he expected the so-called infamous Mountbatten temper to completely come to the fore, and he accepted his fate. But when she realised that it was her mother’s equerry standing at the opposite end of her office, Princess Anne’s anger melted away. The next thing Tim knew, she brought her hands to her face and burst into tears, turning her back to him.

He was stunned. She was _sobbing_ into her hands, her body trembling from the outburst, and it broke his heart. Forgetting himself entirely, he crossed the room to stand at her side, putting a hand on her back.

“Ma’am.. Ma’am, it’s alright..” He spoke softly and reassuringly, but her tears continued to fall. _She needs to cry_ , he thought. And so he let her. Gently putting his arm around her shoulders, he let her bury her face into his chest and drew her closer, soothingly rubbing her back as she sobbed into him. “It’s alright,” he repeated.

He didn’t know how long they had stood there like that for when he lead her to the couch opposite the fireplace and sat her down. She was calming down now, and he offered her his handkerchief to dry her eyes, which she accepted.

Allowing her some privacy to compose herself, he focused his attention on what had been the target of her anger. He put the telephone back on her desk and discarded the remnants of the glass and the picture frames into the waste paper basket, placing the two photographs - one of her children sitting on ponies, the other a family portrait of the four of them together - onto her desk.

“Leave it,” she said, her voice breathy and soft as a result of the sobs.

He did as he was told and turned to face her again, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze, fiddling with the handkerchief and smoothing down her dress. He could tell she was mortified.

“Christ, what must you think of me?”

Tim shook his head and sat down beside her again.

“There’s no need to feel embarrassed.” It made her look at him, and his genuine, reassuring smile was enough to make her blush.

“I’m terribly sorry, I really don’t know what came over me-“

“Don’t be silly. You have no reason to apologise for being upset... Would you like me to get you a cup of tea? Or coffee?”

“No thank you..” She was looking down at her lap now, fiddling with her wedding ring and at a complete loss for words as to what to say to the poor man who’s shirt now had a large wet patch in the middle from he _ _ _ _ _ _r tears.______

 _ _ _ _ _ _“______ Ma’am.. You can, talk to me.” He felt like a fool the moment the words left his lips, but he couldn’t help it. “I mean- I know whatever it is, it’s absolutely none of my business, I know that, but.. If you do need to, get something off your chest, and perhaps just let off some steam, anything.. I just want you to know that you can trust me.”

There was a pause as her teary blue eyes focused on his sharp green ones, almost as if she was invading his mind, surveying him, deciding if what he said was true.

“I know I can.”

It surprised him, and filled him with a sense of joy and accomplishment at the same time, knowing she trusted him. She smiled then. A sad, half-smile, but he swore he’d never seen anything so beautiful before. He wanted to make all that sadness disappear.

“Would you like to talk about what upset you?”

“ _Who_. And I’m sure if you’ve seen a newspaper today, you already know.”

He didn’t dare mention the meeting earlier, or what Michael Shea had said. He just gave her a sympathetic look that said he had seen them. She scoffed, shaking her head _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _.________

“Denial after denial, it only spurs them on, to dig up more dirt.. And it’s never going to stop. Not until they get what they want, and we get divorced. Only that can’t happen. So we just have to live with it.”

He stayed quiet. He had no right to comment on her situation, but he could listen, and he could see that was what she needed. Their eyes meeting again, she continued.

“Only it’s hard to live with it when your husband keeps adding fuel to the fire.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She sighed, fiddling with his handkerchief, and the sad smile returned to her face.

“I know there have been other women. No matter what he says, I know it. What I don’t know is which stories are true and which aren’t, and he’s certainly not going to tell me..”

“That must be very difficult for you.” Christ, what else could he say?

“It is.. And what doesn’t help is that _prick_ Michael Shea coming to ask me if I’ve spoken to him, and what he’s said about it. What does that matter?! He knows to just shoot it down, that’s his job! He doesn’t need fucking details!” There was a pause.

“..I take it you’re not his biggest fan then?” He said, raising a brow with a wry smile on his face. She gave a short little chuckle, shaking her head.

“I don’t know how he got in here, he’s a fucking liability. I don’t trust him.” _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _But you trust me,___________ he thought, feeling rather proud, but he didn’t dare say it aloud.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I finally got in touch with him and he’s denying everything of course, and he’s getting annoyed at me because he says the press there are getting in his face about it..” She sighed, a single tear running down her cheek.

 _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _“______________ I really don’t know why I’m telling you all this.” Their eyes met again, and he took his handkerchief, dabbing the tear from her cheek so gently, she barely felt it.

“You can’t keep this all to yourself, it’s not good for you. You’ve got to tell someone.”

Eventually he went to get her a cup of coffee, and one for him, knowing he would have to work late to get through the pile of paperwork on his desk, but he didn’t mind. They sat there for a good couple of hours: it began with her telling him about her marriage problems, and him listening intently, trying to make her feel better in any way he could. But by the end of the first hour, he had her laughing, and the conversation had steered to happier topics. When the clock chimed 8 times, Anne checked her watch again in disbelief.

“Oh God, have I really kept you here this long?! I-“

“You weren’t holding me prisoner! Besides, I enjoyed talking to you, Ma’am.”

“So did I, Commander. Thank you, you really made me feel better. We might do this again.. except, without me ruining your shirt the next time.” She smirked.

“I’d like that very much, Ma’am.”

It was five past midnight when Tim finished his paperwork for the day. He would have gotten it done much sooner had it not been for thoughts of the Princess distracting him, something that was becoming more of a regular occurrence than he realised. Yawning, he turned off the light and headed for his apartment, hoping that their chat would come sooner rather than later.

**Author's Note:**

> I’d just like to reiterate that while my stories obviously feature very real people, the concepts within them are all from my own imagination. The truth is that Anne and Tim were secretly in love and began their relationship while he was still an equerry. Everything else is made-up. While William Heseltine and Michael Shea did exist, this never happened.  
> Just call me Peter Morgan.


End file.
